


Familial Affection

by Rosa_abo (Rosawyn)



Series: Familial Affection [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Childhood Trauma, Consent, Family Drama, Hugs, Kid Fic, Kissing, M/M, Nick Fury is a Good Boss, Omega Bucky Barnes, Parenthood, Protective Steve Rogers, Sexism, and an all around good guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7326778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosawyn/pseuds/Rosa_abo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky, a bonded pair, are raising their three-year-old daughter together and doing their best to navigate their confusing and sometimes not quite functional family.</p><p>When a grandparent's whims clash with the comfort of his child, Steve finds himself needing to teach someone much older than him an important lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familial Affection

**Author's Note:**

> (That is quite possibly the worst summary I've ever written. Forgive me.)

Steve was just turning off the bathroom light and padding back towards the living room in Alexander's house when he heard the unexpected sound of Bucky yelling, “Let her _go_!”

The accompanying spike of distress in Bucky's scent—strong enough to reach Steve in the hallway—had Steve breaking into a sprint and skidding around the corner in time to see Bucky clutch Winnie to his chest and press himself back against the wall in a crouch as he pinned Alexander with a miserable glare. Alexander was crouched near the coffee table and facing Bucky so Steve couldn't see the other alpha's face—Alexander's scent wasn't exactly strong (especially not when competing with the scent of Steve's distressed bondmate), but what Steve could catch of it merely smelled confused rather than angry or anything else that would indicate an immediate threat.

Winnie started crying—or at least, crying loud enough for Steve to hear. Quickly closing the distance between himself and his family, Steve shot Alexander a quick look, demanding, “What happened?”

He wasn't exactly asking Alexander, but Alexander answered before Bucky, saying, “I admit I'm not entirely sure myself. I asked Winnie for a hug.”

Bucky flinched at Alexander's words, turning his face into Steve's chest as Steve stroked Winnie's back reassuringly. Confusion swirled now in Bucky's scent in addition to the still-present general distress. “I want to go, Steve,” Bucky pleaded. “Please, can we go?”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve gave Bucky's shoulder a firm squeeze. Bucky was trembling slightly, so Steve rubbed at his shoulder soothingly. “Take Winnie and get your shoes on, okay?”

Bucky gave a shaky nod. “Okay.” He pulled himself up to stand, still holding Winnie against his chest, and left the room as quickly as his could while still avoiding walking anywhere near Alexander.

Steve turned a mistrustful glare on Alexander, who shrugged, finally standing up as well and brushing the wrinkles out of his grey slacks. “I suppose it is best to cut our little visit short,” Alexander said, “considering.”

Steve clenched his teeth for a moment. It wasn't like they were running out before dinner; that was over and done with, and they'd been at the 'hanging around drinking coffee while Winnie colours' part of the evening. But Alexander always had to make it seem like he was giving his permission—or at least his blessing. Probably made him feel like he was in control. Steve didn't bother trying to stop glaring at him. “Yeah.”

Alexander sighed, and before Steve could quite turn to go himself, said, “I do see so little of Winnie.” Which was true as far as that went, but it was nearly always Alexander who was too busy to get together. Alexander shrugged again. “I had hoped, when you and James bonded, that you'd be able to train some better habits into the boy.” Steve ground his teeth together. His glare hardened. Not this shit again. “Well, with his unique issues...” Alexander continued, heedless of the protective 'back the hell off' anger in Steve's scent, “I did originally approve of the match because Nick always spoke so highly of you; I thought a strong alpha was what he needed to keep him in line.”

Steve rubbed at his forehead, hit with sudden fatigue. He didn't exactly know what he'd expected from Alexander; the man was probably not quite capable of giving a clear explanation of anything, ever. The only reason Steve put up with him was that he was Bucky's foster parent. (He was also Fury's best friend, but that probably wouldn't have been reason enough on its own.) Before Steve really confronted Alexander about this, though, he did need to know what the hell had happened. And clearly Alexander wasn't about to volunteer any useful information. (Maybe he honestly _didn't_ know; he could be rather oblivious, after all, when it came to Bucky.) So Steve just said, “I gotta go,” and left without any sort of apology.

When Steve reached him at the door, Bucky had just finished tying his own shoes—Winnie sat fidgeting next to him on the stairs, her own sandals on her feet. Steve offered Bucky and Winnie a smile as he stooped to pull on his own shoes.

“Ta, I wanna go _home_!” Winnie whined.

“I know, sweetheart,” Steve replied as he quickly worked his laces. “Just let Ta get his shoes on, okay?”

Winnie wrinkled up her nose and squirmed a bit, but she nodded.

As the door closed behind them, Bucky breathed an audible sigh of relief—the welcome smell of that relief in his scent mixed with the fresh outdoor air, helping to take the desperate edge off Steve's own unrest. Winnie stamped her feet a bit as she hung off Bucky's hand, not quite pulling ahead in her eagerness to get to their van. “Look, Steve, I'm sorry; I—” Bucky began, voice soft and his fingers wrapped tightly around Steve's bicep as he clung close to Steve's side.

“It's all right,” Steve assured him. “If you want to go home, then we go home.” Reaching the van, he unlocked it and pulled the sliding door open then hefted Winnie up and buckled her into her seat.

“Granta wouldn't let go,” Winnie said suddenly.

Steve paused, letting his hand rest on her small knee. “Granta wouldn't let go?” Winnie nodded, expression solemn. Her soft brown curls framed her cherubic face, eyes still red-rimmed from crying. “I'm sorry that happened, sweetheart.” Steve gave her knee a gentle pat. Bucky'd already climbed into the passenger seat, so Steve closed the sliding door and walked around to get into the driver's seat.

As Steve pulled out of the driveway onto the road, Bucky let out a shaky breath and said, “I may have—overreacted.” The sick smell of guilt mingled with the still-present smell of confusion in his scent.

Steve tried not to give any reaction that might be interpreted as agreement or disagreement; the fact was that Bucky _did_ sometimes—though not as often lately—overreact to things. Everyone did, of course, but Bucky perhaps more so than most. It wasn't exactly his fault, and of course he often felt his reactions were far more overblown than they actually were. _Everyone_ got upset. Often, being upset was quite justified. Steve glanced sideways at Bucky then back at the road. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Bucky grimaced, just visible out of the corner of Steve's eye. “Winnie was colouring at the coffee table.” He sighed. “Alexander came and crouched down to look at her pictures and said they were nice. Then he asked for a hug. She said no, but he grabbed her anyway, and—he—he said she had to kiss him or he wouldn't let go.” He grimaced again, and worried guilt spiked in his scent. “He—he was playing. I guess.”

Steve tried to keep the anger in his own scent—and his anger in general—under control. He glanced at Winnie in the rear view mirror. “You didn't want to give Granta a hug, Winnie?”

Winnie squirmed a bit and kicked the back of Steve's seat. “No.” She wrinkled up her nose and shook her head. “Or a kiss. Om made him let me go.”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. He glanced sideways at Bucky. “Good for Om.” He gripped the steering wheel a bit harder than necessary. “Your Om's a good Om,” Steve told Winnie, though of course Bucky was meant to hear as well. “He takes good care of you.”

Bucky really _did_ take good care of Winnie. He didn't do it alone; Steve and he were in this together. But Bucky still did more than half, surely, as he was the one who stayed home with her while Steve worked. And she was happy and healthy and so smart. She was talking really well for being just over three, and she knew most of her colours and was learning to count. Alexander always had his opinions on childcare—which he was quick to share without any sort of prompting—but at every visit Winnie's doctor had been happy with her growth and development, so Steve and Bucky must've been doing okay.

Perhaps the biggest mistake they'd made so far was ever letting Alexander be a part of her life.

In the beginning, he'd wanted them to name her after him. Alexandra, he'd said. Such a nice name for a little girl, even if she is just a beta. 'Just a beta.' He'd actually said that. That, along with how much of a 'shame' it was that the baby was a beta, but at least they could try again. Maybe next time they'd get an alpha. Or at least an omega.

Steve would have gone with the name, at least for a middle name, if Bucky had wanted; there was nothing wrong with the name, after all. But Bucky had wanted to name their baby for both of their dams, so that's what they'd done: Winifred Sarah Rogers. Alexander probably thought they were saving his name for their next child, who would of course be an alpha—'or at least an omega.' The man was an ass, really.

Would Fury really be _that_ mad if Steve ever snapped and punched his best friend in the face?

o0o

Steve was waiting on the couch when Bucky came out of Winnie's room. Steve had read her three stories and then Bucky had gone in to nurse her to sleep—she was down to once a day now, just the bedtime feeding, but her doctor said it would be great if she could hold on to that one until at least her next birthday. It was like a little extra 'booster', the doctor said. And Bucky never seemed to mind; in fact, he said it was so much easier now that it was only once a day—had been so much easier even when it was just twice a day—so he wouldn't mind no matter how long she wanted to go. Alexander, of course, had been making comments for at least a year about when would Bucky's next heat be—surely they wanted to get started on a second child. (The first one was such a _joy_ , after all. Even though he saw so little of her.) But it was unlikely that Bucky's heat cycle would return until Winnie was closer to fully weaning, or in fact fully weaned. So it could easily be another year. Or more. Steve was fine with that. There really was no rush.

Bucky sat down on the other end of the couch, twisting his lips unhappily. “I think...I upset her today. And, I mean, I really didn't have a good reason.”

“You mean at Alexander's?” Steve asked. Bucky nodded, dark hair moving about his face. Guilt swirled harsh and unwelcome in his scent. Steve wanted to reach for him, to reassure him with a calming touch, but Bucky had deliberately put space between them, so Steve stayed where he was. But he shook his head. “If he grabbed her when she said no and—” Steve's features twisted with disgust. “—demanded a _kiss_ before he'd let go—” He shook his head again. “Bucky; you had a good reason. And it wasn't _you_ who upset her.”

Bucky curled in a bit on himself. “I just...I got scared. And—angry.”

Steve was about to insist Bucky'd had every reason to be angry when a sick thought stabbed him in the gut. “Bucky...” he tried, careful as ever to keep both his body language and his _scent_ calm, “when you were a kid...did...did he ever...?”

Bucky's eyes grew wide, and maybe Steve hadn't been able to keep the disturbing notes of sick worry out of his scent entirely. “No, no,” Bucky insisted. “Nothing like _that_. Not...” His eyes cut away. “Not what you're thinking.” Steve hardened his jaw, unwilling or unable to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. Bucky shifted a bit. “He—he'd ask for hugs. Sometimes. Or...I had to sit in his lap. And kiss him on the cheek. It wasn't...” Bucky shifted again, a blurred mess of uncomfortable emotions pouring off him in waves. “It wasn't anything _bad_. I just—” He tugged at his hair. “I never _liked_ it.”

“Bucky,” Steve said after a moment, once he was relatively sure he could speak in a reasonably calm tone of voice, “no one _ever_ has the right to demand physical affection. From anyone. No matter what.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “But he wasn't... He wasn't doing anything...wrong.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “There might not be a law against any of that, Bucky, but that doesn't mean it isn't _wrong_. When Winnie said 'no', he needed to respect that. But he didn't. He might have thought he was just playing, but that sort of thing doesn't send a healthy message to a child.” Steve had read about this when Bucky was pregnant—he'd done a lot of research about pregnancy and babies and parenting. And while the 'experts' didn't really seem to all agree on anything, ever, Steve had pretty much decided to go with whatever felt right. And the whole idea of teaching the basics of consent young felt very, very right. What disturbed him most was that it always seemed a _majority_ of parents involved in the discussions following articles on the subject _disagreed_. (Maybe a good many of the ones who did agree didn't bother to comment at all. Maybe.) He probably should have talked the whole thing over with Bucky; they talked over most things to make sure they were on the same page. They'd discussed swaddling, pacifiers, vaccinations, strollers, teething, car seat safety, shoes, and preschool in addition to a _myriad_ of other topics. But this just hadn't quite come up before.

Drawing a shaky breath and letting it out, Bucky nodded. “She...she didn't like it. I could tell she didn't like it. I couldn't smell it, but I could see it. On her face.”

Steve nodded. It was possible—or perhaps, quite likely—that Alexander hadn't seen her face once he'd pulled her close. And since she was a beta, he wouldn't have been able to read her scent either. But none of that was any excuse, because, “She said no.”

Bucky nodded, expression unhappy. He shifted, rubbing one of his sock feet against the other. “And—” He drew a breath and let it out. “He needs to respect that.”

“Absolutely,” Steve agreed. “Everyone needs to respect that.”

Bucky shot a hesitant glance in Steve's direction. “Can I—?” He shifted a bit closer on the couch, wrinkling his nose and pouting just a bit. “Wanna cuddle.”

Grinning in surprised pleasure, Steve spread his arms in invitation. “Of course.”

Pressing himself against Steve's side, Bucky made a soft, contented noise. Pleased relief swirled in his scent. Steve stroked his hair and Bucky nearly purred. Then Bucky turned his head a bit so he could peek up at Steve. “I didn't mess up today?”

“You didn't,” Steve promised, scratching at Bucky's scalp the way he liked.

“You're...” Bucky bit his lip. “...happy with me?”

Steve nodded slowly. “I'm so damn _proud_ of you, sweetheart.” He stroked his fingers through Bucky's hair and Bucky's eyes fell shut again as he turned to hide his face in Steve's neck, breath tickling Steve's skin. Steve smiled, letting the depth of his affection freely fill his scent. Bucky shuddered a bit, pressing even closer. After a thoughtful silence, Steve said, “This isn't like when we keep her buckled in her car seat when the van's moving or hold her back so she can't run in traffic.”

“Or make her take her medicine when she's sick,” Bucky added. His lips brushed the sensitive skin of Steve's neck, and he shifted a bit so his forehead was pressed into Steve's neck instead. “Or make her take a bath.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “Exactly. Those things are necessary for her safety and health. But Alexander just _wanted a hug_.” The very idea that some adult's whim could ever overrule a child's comfort and consent was just so _sickening_. “And besides,” Steve added, “what good is a hug when it's forced? It's not a _real_ hug then.”

Pulling back to look into Steve's face, Bucky chewed on his lip for a bit then said, “Yeah. I guess I don't understand...why he'd even _want_ that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly.” It didn't make any sense, really.

And it kept Steve up for over an hour after Bucky had already fallen asleep. What possible reason could a fully grown adult have for demanding hugs and kisses from a reluctant or resisting child? Surely most adults understood, at least in theory, the difference between coerced and freely-given affection. Was it about _power_ rather than affection at all? It just... The more Steve thought about it, the more it disturbed him.

o0o

Steve awoke in the morning to find Bucky curled on his side and Winnie cuddled on the other side of him with her little head resting on his arm and one of her little hands curled in the fabric of his shirt. Bucky's other arm looped protectively around her back. Steve pressed his nose into Bucky's messy hair, breathing deeply of his wonderfully calming scent. He always smelled _so_ good when he was sleeping peacefully.

Grunting, Bucky shifted slightly then turned his head to peek back at Steve, blinking sleepy eyes. His face screwed up a bit, but he said, “Mornin',” and he smelled mostly happy (just a little grumpy as he usually did when waking up).

Humming contentedly, Steve nuzzled at Bucky's hair some more. “Thought we were trying to get her to sleep in her own bed all night.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “She has been.” Which was true. This was probably the first time in more than two months that she'd crawled into their bed during the night.

Steve shrugged one shoulder. “I don't mind; I just thought that was something you were working on now that she no longer nurses during the night.”

Looking down at Winnie, Bucky stoked her soft curls. “I dunno. I like snuggling with her.” He shrugged his shoulder as well. “The doctor said it was something we could work on, but I dunno if it's all that important.” Bucky had likely not fully woken when she'd come into the room—and if she'd come to Steve's side of the bed, he would have let her stay too. (That was far easier than getting up to take her back to her own bed, after all.)

Sliding one hand over Bucky's waist, Steve laid it on Winnie's side. “I like snuggling with her too.” It felt so calm, so peaceful. “She'll grow out of it eventually on her own even if we don't bother about it.” Or so many parents said. But really, she kind of _had_ to. Eventually. Steve himself had, after all. His dam said he'd slept with her at least part time until he was nearly five. He'd eventually moved fully to his own bed without himself or his dam taking much notice. Maybe they'd been pushing a bit too hard with Winnie. There really was no rush.

As Steve stroked her back, Winnie's eyes blinked open and her whole face lit up in a grin. “Ta!”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Steve smiled back at her, heart so filled with love and affection that it kind of _hurt_. “Ready to get up? I'll make you and Om some eggs and toast for breakfast—how does that sound?”

Grinning, she bounced up to her knees on the bed, clapping her hands. “Yay!”

“Excited about the eggs, sweetheart?” Bucky asked her. They all knew Winnie loved eggs. Especially fried or poached when the yolk was still runny, but she would eat them any way they'd ever offered them.

Winnie giggled, bouncing up and down a bit. “Yes! Eggs on toast!”

o0o

With twenty minutes left in his lunch break, Steve called Alexander. When Alexander, who was likely on a lunch break himself, picked up, Steve began, “We need to talk—is this a good time?”

“I don't have anything especially pressing at the moment,” Alexander answered. “What can I do for you, son?”

Steve took a quiet, calming breath and let it out. “Bucky and Winnie told me what happened yesterday.” After a beat where Alexander said nothing, Steve added, “You asked Winnie for a hug and she said _no_. But you ignored that.”

After a pause, Alexander responded, “And you're...upset about that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve replied, unable to keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

And audible somewhat bewildered-sounding breath came through the phone. “I was playing with my granddaughter. I'm not sure why that would upset anyone, honestly.” After a short pause, he added, “Though, I do know James is very high-strung, very emotionally volatile—so I suppose I should never really be surprised at the sorts of things that upset him.” He chuckled softly, wry and a little awkward as though he expected Steve to sympathize.

Steve took a few breaths through his nose. “I don't care if you think you were playing with her, Alexander; if she says she doesn't want a hug—or a kiss—that's the end of it. You don't push and you sure as hell don't _force_ her.”

“I'm not sure what you're trying to accuse me of here, Steve.” A defensive edge worked its way into Alexander's voice. “If James thinks he saw something...”

“What Bucky told me,” Steve replied, voice hard, “is that you asked Winnie for a hug and she said no, but you grabbed her anyway and said she had to kiss you or you wouldn't let her go. That's _all_ , but damn it, that's _not_ okay!”

“I can play innocent games with her,” Alexander responded. “She's my granddaughter; I have that right.”

“'Innocent games',” Steve shot back, trying to keep at least most of the growl out of his voice, “do not involve forcing her to hug or kiss you. You never have the right to do that. _No one_ has the right to do that.”

“Are you telling me...” Alexander cleared his throat. “...that I'm not allowed to enjoy normal, healthy familial affection with my granddaughter?”

“Alexander.” Steve sighed quietly, half sitting on the edge of his desk. “It doesn't sound like you're listening to what I'm saying.” He rubbed at his forehead. “There's nothing 'healthy' about forcing affection—on _anyone_ , but least of all a child.”

After a pause, Alexander said, “It sounds to me like you're blowing this whole thing wildly out of proportion. I understand that James sometimes gets upset and overreacts; we both know that. Obviously, Winnie got upset when he did; that's normal for a child with her dam, even a beta child.”

“This isn't about Bucky 'overreacting'!” Clenching his teeth, Steve glared down at the toes of his shoes. “This is about _you_ learning to respect boundaries and accepting that your personal desires do not in any way overrule the comfort of my child. Or any child.”

After several beats of silence, Alexander began, “You know I did my very best with James, though of course losing his family like that had a profound impact—as I'm sure it would on anyone.” Steve scratched at his scalp as he listened to Alexander speak. _Way to completely change the subject?_ “And who knows what other sort of influences he's had in his life before that,” Alexander continued. Oh, of course: Alexander was making excuses. Insulting Bucky but also trying to shift the blame for everything that was 'wrong' with him. “He was a very troubled young man. But I had hoped _you_ would be a steadying influence on him, Steve; that is how one hopes a bond will go—”

Steve hung up on him, slapping his phone face-down on top of the stack of papers on his desk. Managing not to throw the phone across the room—and still feeling like Alexander had somehow won. Maybe Steve was being childish, hanging up on him, but it was clear he was just gearing up for yet another lecture about how terribly disappointed he was in how Steve was handling his role as Bucky's alpha. It was such a transparent attempt to distract from the real issue. Steve huffed a few frustrated breaths in and out through his nose.

A quiet rapping of knuckles against his door frame, and Steve's head whipped around to see his boss standing there with his one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Rough day?”

Steve blew out a breath, shoulders slumping. “You could say that.”

Fury leaned against the door frame. “Wanna talk about it?”

One side of Steve's lips curved up in a bit of a smirk. “Would you fire me if I talked badly about one of your friends?”

Fury shrugged. “I think usually anything prefaced with 'with all due respect' is somehow sacrosanct. Especially if you tag a 'sir' on there at the end.”

Looking down at the dull carpet, Steve grinned. “Well, in that case...sir. With all due respect, your friend Alexander is an asshole.”

“Ah.” Fury nodded, straightening and sliding his hands into his pockets. “So this is the family drama.”

Steve's brows twisted in confusion as he met Fury's gaze. “You don't exactly seem...surprised.” In fact, wry amusement mixed with a tired sort of resignation in Fury's scent.

“I hear his side of this thing all the time,” Fury said, walking over and half sitting on the edge of Steve's desk next to him. “How he'd had such high hopes for you, considering how I talked you up as this brilliant young alpha. How he's so disappointed with the lack of 'discipline' in your relationship. How he despairs that you'll ever get around to trying for another baby before he's either dead or given over to dementia—because, of course, he's holding out hope for that _alpha_ grandchild. And how, in general, he just can't comprehend how 'young people these days' can just be so _wrong_ about everything all the time.”

Steve frowned, brows still twisting dubiously. “You don't exactly sound like you agree with him. Sir.”

Fury shook his head, grinning slowly. “Just because he's my friend doesn't mean I agree with everything he says or approve of everything he does.” Fury and Alexander had met way back when they were both young alphas just out of high school doing the four years military service that was required of alphas in those days. Maybe that more than anything else was the real reason they were friends: that whole 'brothers in arms' bond. “And honestly?” Fury continued, turning a serious eye on Steve. “You're the best damn thing that ever happened to that poor boy; don't ever let his foster sire tell you different.” Grabbing Steve by the shoulder, he gave it a squeeze. “And you're a damn good sire to Winnie, too.”

Steve dropped his gaze to his hands, folded in his lap. “Um, thanks. I mean, I guess I don't say it often enough, but...you're a damn good boss. And mentor.” Fury had very much stepped into a sire's role and done it so naturally that it had never really been awkward. “And—thanks for helping me meet Bucky in the first place.” He shot a self-conscious glance sideways at Fury. “I...owe you a lot.”

Grinning, Fury nodded. “You do. But maybe it's better if we don't keep score.” Clapping Steve on the shoulder, he glanced at the clock and said, “Your break about over now?”

Glancing at the clock as well, Steve winced a bit. “About five or six minutes ago.”

Fury chuckled as he stood up. “Guess I won't dock your pay— _this_ time. Just be sure you're in the training room in ten; as you no doubt remember, I've got a group of raw recruits today, and I don't want to have to go in there and deal with them myself—that _is_ what I pay _you_ for, after all.” He smirked, gaze cutting to Steve pointedly. “But I've got my eye on you.”

Smiling wryly as he gripped the edge of the desk at his sides, Steve nodded. “I generally assume you do, sir.” Just as Fury was turning to go, Steve said, “Sir?” Fury turned back, raising his eyebrow in expectation. Steve squared his shoulders. “Bucky and Winnie and I would love it if you could come over for dinner sometime this week. I can grill up some steaks—or ribs, whichever you prefer.”

Fury's brow furrowed slightly as his eye narrowed in thought. “I think we had steaks last time. They were great,” he added, turning a grin on Steve, “but might as well mix it up and do ribs this time—and I'm free Friday, if that works for you.”

Steve flashed him a bright smile. “It does.”

o0o

“I talked to Alexander today,” Steve told Bucky as they lay cuddled together in bed that night. Bucky turned towards Steve in the circle of his arms, worry twisting in his scent. He didn't say anything. Steve sighed. “I tried to make our position clear, but he—” Steve rubbed a hand over his face.

“He's refusing to see our point of view,” Bucky filled in. He tugged at a wrinkle in Steve's t-shirt, lips twisting unhappily.

Steve sighed. “Exactly.”

“You know,” Bucky said after a beat. “I _am_ grateful that he took me in after my parents died.” His fingers twisted in the material of Steve's shirt. “And he wasn't all _that_ bad of a parent, considering. He just... Well, he wasn't exactly a _good_ one either.” He made a face. “Also, he's just kind of an ass in general.”

“He _is_ ,” Steve agreed, pulling Bucky closer against him. “And he's an ass who's going to be seeing a lot less of our daughter until he can figure out how to act like a reasonable adult.” Bucky pressed further into Steve's side, making a contented sound and smelling both relieved and pleased. Smiling softly, Steve stroked his hair then kissed it, murmuring, “I love you _so_ much.”

Bucky pressed his grin into the soft material of Steve's t-shirt, warm affection and happiness spiking in his scent. “Love you too,” he mumbled, lips catching on the t-shirt fabric.

“Oh, by the way,” Steve said, “I invited Fury over for dinner this Friday. I'll make ribs.”

Making a happy sound, Bucky slid his hand under the hem of Steve's t-shirt, fingers finding the shape of Steve's six-pack. “I like it when you cook for Fury—you always try to impress him.”

Steve made a soft, mildly taken-aback sound in his throat. “Don't I try to impress you?”

“I suppose.” Bucky idly traced the shape of Steve's muscles. “But I guess the difference is...I'm already impressed. So you don't have to try quite as hard.”

“Just for that,” Steve vowed, “I'm making you and Winnie French toast tomorrow morning. With whipped cream. And strawberries.” French toast still counted as 'eggs' as far as Winnie was concerned, but Bucky was the one who loved strawberries the most. Strawberries and whipped cream, specifically.

“We don't have strawberries,” Bucky pointed out—but he smelled gleeful, so that was a win. (A win for both Steve and Bucky; they were in this together, after all.)

“I'll pick some up in the morning on my way back from my run,” Steve replied, twitching one shoulder in a shrug. “There's this little market that sells all kinds of fruits and vegetables; I go past it. I'll just pop in there and grab some. Sam might even help me pick out the best ones.”

Bucky made a hum of agreement. “Invite Sam to join us for breakfast, then.”

“Well.” Steve frowned. “I mean, that is a good idea, but... This was supposed to be about me impressing _you_ — _just_ you.” He made a face. “Well, you and Winnie, I guess.”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, you could always invite him over another time.” He pressed an indulgent smile into the swell of Steve's pec. “If it's that important to you.”

Chuckling as well, Steve nuzzled at Bucky's hair. “If you want me to invite him, then I'll invite him.”

Because, honestly, if Bucky wanted to go to the moon, Steve would start looking for ways to book a rocket ship. (Space tourism was a thing, now, wasn't it?) This, though? This was easy: all Steve had to do was ask Sam if he wanted to join them for breakfast. Maybe Sam had something pressing at work and wouldn't have time for a big breakfast or socializing before he had to get going—if Sam said no, well, that was that. All Steve had to do was ask him; Steve wasn't responsible for Sam's answer.

o0o

“That was really great,” Sam said with a grin, pushing his plate aside after finishing his third slice of French toast. “You know, Steve, you keep at it and one of these days you might actually be as good a cook as me. _Maybe_.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Steve pushed his own empty plate aside. “I love how you manage to compliment yourself while complimenting me.” And compliment himself even more than Steve, actually.

“Hey.” Sam spread his hands. “Just gotta be honest. And besides, wouldn't want you to get a swelled head—especially with you being an alpha and being so predisposed to that.” Bucky, pushing a piece of strawberry through the whipped cream on his plate, kept his eyes downcast and said nothing—but if he was trying to keep the amusement out of his scent, he wasn't doing a very good job. God, this was probably the real reason he wanted Sam to join them for breakfast; he loved seeing Sam pick on Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Really, Sam? Sexism? Are we really going there?” It wasn't quite fair, accusing Sam of sexism. Because, really, alphas _did_ tend to be rather prone to thinking they were better than everyone else. Even if that was more a learned rather than a genetic thing.

Laughing, Sam ducked his head and shook it a bit. “Well, where I really have to _go_ is to work.” Looking up, he glanced at Steve and Bucky in turn. “But this was really great; thanks for inviting me.”

“I'm glad you were able to join us,” Bucky said, offering Sam a sincere smile.

“Yeah.” Returning the smile as he pushed his chair back, Sam stood up.

Looking up from her plate, Winnie pouted at him. “Gotta go?”

“I do,” Sam replied with an apologetic sigh. He ruffled her curls. “I'll have to come another time when we have time to play.”

Winnie nodded gravely. She let out a small sigh. “Okay.” Just as Sam was turning to go, Winnie grabbed his sleeve and said, “Hug?”

Sam turned a fond grin on her. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Winnie stood on her chair to hug him. “Bye, Unca Sam,” she said as she pulled back.

“Bye, Winnie,” Sam replied, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Turning to Steve and Bucky, he added, “Thanks again.” His eyes flickered to their wall clock and he hissed slightly. “And I really _do_ have to go now. But this was great,” he continued as he pulled on his shoes at the door. “We should maybe do the breakfast thing more often.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Steve commented, with a wry grin, “now that I'm actually getting to be a passable cook, you want me to make you food all the time.” Back before Steve had bonded with Bucky, he and Sam used to have breakfast together most mornings—they'd go to a restaurant sometimes, but Sam often insisted that Steve needed to learn to cook if he was ever going to properly care for an omega, so more often than not their morning runs would end in a cooking lesson in Sam's kitchen before they both had to head off to work.

Sam flashed him a grin. “You know it.”

Just after the door closed behind Sam, Bucky reached over, taking Steve's hand and saying, “I think you're a really great cook. For the record.”

Steve offered him a soft smile and an unconcerned shrug. “I'm glad you think so. Sam's just...got a bit higher standards than most, I guess.” Which might come, at least in part, from him being Steve's teacher. Steve shrugged again, smirking a bit. “Or maybe he just likes teasing me.” It was probably a bit of both, actually.

o0o

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Fury greeted Winnie as he walked with Steve into the living room, late Friday afternoon.

“Unca Furry!” Winnie dropped her pony toys on the coffee table to run over and tackle-hug Fury just as he crouched down to her level. (The way she pronounced his name was of course both adorable and hilarious. To Fury more than anyone, apparently.)

Fury grinned down at her. “Hey, can 'Unca Furry' get a kiss?” He offered his cheek.

“No,” Winnie replied without the slightest hint of apology or concern, shaking her head.

Fury laughed, letting her go. “Maybe another time?”

Winnie nodded as she went back to playing with her ponies. “Yeah, maybe.”

Bucky came to stand next to Steve, sliding his arm around Steve's waist, so Steve wrapped his arm protectively around Bucky's shoulders. “Table's set,” Bucky murmured.

“That's good,” Steve replied, pressing a kiss to Bucky's temple. “Thanks for doing that.”

Bucky nodded in acknowledgement then turned his attention to the pair at the coffee table, watching as Fury joined Winnie in her game, asking questions about the different ponies. Still in a low voice for Steve alone, Bucky commented, “He's so good with her.”

“He really is,” Steve agreed, unable to miss the obvious contrast between how Fury interacted with Winnie—how Fury _always_ interacted with Winnie—and Pierce's recent awful behaviour. For a pair of such old friends, the two men could hardly be more different. Fury, who apparently wasn't quite as busy, even saw more of Winnie than Alexander did.

Come to think of it, despite all he'd read online that might suggest a prevailing public notion to the contrary, most people _did_ in fact respect Winnie's boundaries. Without argument. Without complaint. Without Steve or Bucky having to explain anything to them. They just, apparently, naturally behaved in a respectful manner. Sam certainly did. Natasha and Maria and Pepper and Sharon all did. Clint and Laura did too. And Bruce. And Betty. Hell, even _Tony_ did—though in his case it might have been more due to the fact that he had no idea how to interact with children so he just tried _not_ to. But regardless of the reasons, nearly every adult in Winnie's life treated her with respect when it came to personal boundaries and affection. Maybe Alexander's ideas about what was 'normal' really, really _wasn't_. Even for people from his day and age. Because, well, there was _Fury_ after all. And he was at most two or three years younger than Alexander.

Maybe Alexander Pierce was just kind of a selfish, self-centred dick. Well, obviously he _was_. Just...generally. And out of touch with reality as well. He was at the age where he probably felt he didn't need to learn anything new. He was going to learn, though. One way or another he was going to learn something from this. Even if it was just that Steve Rogers' stubbornness was eclipsed only by his fervent desire to protect his family.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~So...if, hypothetically, I were to write other little scenes and snippets from this same verse, would people want to read them? How Bucky and Steve first met, as an example. (idk, I'm getting annoying plot bunnies for this damn thing...)~~
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> There will (most likely) be at the very least a prequel to this, posted in series with it; I've started work on it today (June 28, 2016) and already have ~1k words. I can't make any promises about when it will be ready to post, but if you're interested in reading more of this particular 'verse, please subscribe to the series (I'm pretty sure you don't even an AO3 account to subscribe).


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